Ollivanders, Diagon Alley, London, England | August 31

Calypso stepped through the doors of Ollivanders wand shop, tentatively. She was excited to be chosen by a wand, but at the same time, wary. This was one of the most important moments in her magical career, maybe her life! What if no wand chooses me? she thought with anxiety. What if I'm not good enough? Calypso was getting worked up now. What if I try every single wand in this shop and none of them like me? She thought of the disappointed look that would spread across the wandmaker's face. How he would shake his head and say "Well, well, looks like someone isn't a real witch after all" What would her family think? How would she go to Hogwarts with no wand? Would she be cast aside by magical society, forced to live as a squib, or worse? What if- But her thought spiral was cut short by the arrival of a tall, thin, knobbly-limbed old man from a back room. He had a shock of white-grey hair and a twinkle in his eye. "What may I do for you, dear?" he asked. "Here for a wand, I presume?" At first Calypso was caught off guard, having been startled out of her thoughts. Why would I go to a wand shop, if not to buy a wand? But then she realized he was just making polite conversation. "Um, yes sir," she said. "I'm Calypso. Calypso Starling. Here for a wand." "Well then," he was pulling a long, thin box from a shelf now. "How about we try this one? Hawthorn and dragon heartstring, 26.3 cm, delightfully springy. Fit for a healer, perhaps for someone with a rather conflicted nature." Calypso, unsure of what to do, picked up the wand and stood there, in the middle of the room, stiff as a board. "Well then, give it a nice swoosh," the man, presumably Ollivander, said. Hesitantly, Calypso waved the wand. Angry red sparks shot out of its tip. "Well, that certainly won't do," Ollivander said with distaste. Relax, Calypso told herself. You can't have possibly expected to be chosen by the first wand you picked up. And so the search continued. "Perhaps, this." Ollivander handed Calypso a new box. "Laurel and unicorn hair, 20 cm, fit for a seeker of glory." This time the wand emitted an ugly, ear-splitting wail. "Most definitely not." It went on like this for the next fifteen minutes or so, and Calypso went through several more wands. "Well, a tough customer, eh? But we'll find one that fits like a glove," Ollivander smiled at her. "Let's try this, maybe? 22.6 centimeters, mayhaw wood and phoenix feather, pliable, particularly effective for Transfiguration, but a bit less for charms. This is a wand for the stubborn, and for the introspective. A wand for the curious, the explorer, the sharp of mind and the kind of heart." Calypso reached for the wand, steeling herself for another failure. But the moment her fingers touched the wood of the wand, she felt...something.
She wasn't quite sure what the something was, but it made her feel sure and true. Like there was a place for her in the world, and she knew exactly what it was. The wand glowed as she took it in her hand, and a nice, warm breeze smelling of the ocean and sunshine filled the room when she waved it.
"Yes," said Ollivander, with something like awe in his voice. "I do so love seeing such great pairings take place." He smiled and looked straight at Calypso. "This wand, Miss Starling, has chosen you."